The Thoughtful Stranger
by Walkinthegarden
Summary: A stranger helps Sam understand his partner just a little bit more. Warning: mentions of rape, abuse, and death of a minor


The sound of the beach rings in the former Navy SEAL's ears. How Deeks can think much less allow himself to ever ease up at such a noisy place is beyond Sam. All he'd wanted was a quiet place to think, but maybe a beach is better in theory.

He's about to get up when he sees a woman out of the corner of his eye. She's pretty, long red hair that shines like fire in the sunlight, but it isn't her hair that makes him pause, but her eyes. They're haunted, like she'd seen too much and been hurt to long. She's smiling at him, a sweet and genuine smile. Despite it all, whatever trauma she's suffered, it hasn't broken her.

"What is it that troubles you?" she asks him.

"Partner troubles," he says, not lying or telling her the truth.

"Cop?" she asks, sitting down next to him even though he hasn't invited her to.

"No, business partner, private security," he lies with ease, not that the nitty gritty details mattered in this.

"And what is it about him that bothers you? You have the look, the one you get when the person's been your partners for years. You care about this man. What's he done?"

"He doesn't trust anyone. All he does is push people away. I wake up every day and prepare myself to hear that he's gone, runaway." He doesn't know why he's telling her this, he thinks if Nate were here he'd say it's because she, unlike everyone else, doesn't know Callen and therefore he can tell the truth.

"Why doesn't he trust people?" she asks, looking thoughtful.

"He was a foster kid. He doesn't even know his whole name, just the last name and a first letter."

"You can never understand what it's like to be him then," she tells him truthfully.

"I've been his partner for—" he argues, but she cuts him off.

"Doesn't matter, not in our lives; people come and go a lot. I was a foster kid. My parents beat me and when social services came to take me away, I thought I would finally be safe." She smiles, a sad and haunted smile that he's seen more then once on G.

"Where you?"

"They all say the same pretty words," she continues, biting her lip, her eyes glazed over as if reliving a memory, "I think some believe them, some even try and follow through, but in the end they _always_ leave. The system beats it into you from day one. They tear you down and pull you apart from the inside out till you're screaming your name just to convince yourself you still have one, that you're not just one of their numbers. I watched people die when I was a foster kid. No one is ever so alone in the world like a foster kid. No one wants you. No one cares. No one misses you when you die. I was in this one home, our foster father drank his weight in beer and vodka every night. It was just me and this other guy, a boy about fifteen named Jaime. Each night Jaime and I waited on our beds. The clock would tick behind us while we listened to him drink. When the sun set, he'd come into the room we shared. He'd fall into one of our beds and the first few nights, we fought. Jaime was so beat up from trying to save me; I thought for sure he was going to die. I stayed at his bedside for three days. It was the first time I realized, truly realized, that those people could kill me, kill us. You know what happens when a foster kid dies? Nothing. You're just a dead child; no one even remembers your name or cries when you die. It's like you never existed at all. That's the life your partner and I lived in." She has tears in her eyes, the kind that are sad and just plain acceptance of truth.

"Did he? Die?"

She smiles that sad smile again and he can see that she's holding back tears. "Yes, he did. It wasn't that time, but he did die in that house. I don't know your partner's experience with the system, but that kind of thing makes it nearly impossible to ever trust again. I still think of Jaime every night. I think about how much he loved the guitar and piano and how good he was at math. He wanted to be a biochemical engineer, and no one knows that but me. If he'd been alone in that house, no one would miss him. The fact that any day that could have been me stays with me. It was always a trick of the draw. Remember that and be patient. Chances are this'll never go away." She flashes him one last smile before getting up and continuing her way down the beach.

Sam can't help but stare after her. Sure he's thought all of this before, but to hear someone say it makes him feel infinitely smaller. It makes him wonder how G survives at all. But he'll be patient, like she says. He'll continue to help him with his demons, forever.

He never wants G to ever feel like nobody cares, that no one would mourn him.

* * *

**A/n Not my best at ALL, but I wanted to. I'll probably come back in and change it little by little. It's late and I wrote this in less then an hour. All mistakes are mine.**


End file.
